


some look for trouble

by piphes



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Inspired by Incredibles (Pixar Movies), Legal Drama, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:13:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piphes/pseuds/piphes
Summary: The Spirits are a band of superheroes, working to lift Arendelle out of its worst crime slump in decades. Honeymaren is a lawyer, working to pay the bills.She doesn't want much, just to do some good and to settle down with her animator girlfriend—but neither of those goals are going to be achieved as easily as she thinks. It can be hard to tell when a good is greater, and it turns out there's A Lot that her and her girlfriend are keeping from each other (although Elsa's secrets might be sliiiiightly bigger...)
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 113





	1. Prologue

One day Arendelle had no one, and the next there was Them.

Everybody had a theory, but nobody knew just where exactly They came from. The story most often heard (and therefore least believed) was that the four had broken out of a government-funded experimental genetics lab somewhere upstate. They wore masks with diamond cutouts and black bodysuits emblazoned with a single diamond, all made of material so sturdy and thick that it took quite a few sightings to figure out that two of Them were women and two were men. 

What exactly They were capable of was a question that remained unanswered for quite some time. The first newspaper articles were almost laughable in retrospect, speculating everything from shape-shifting to teleportation. Eventually, a photographer managed to capture Them in action, and G&K published it on the front page the next day. Accompanying the pictures was a detailed analytical piece by editors Gerda and Kai themselves, whose hypotheses about Their powers had yet to be contradicted, and as such were widely accepted as truth. (As a side effect, G&K became the foremost authority on information about Them, and expanded their headquarters from a single windowless office to an entire building in the financial district.)

One of Them seemed to command wind, able to do nearly anything with air except remove it from a place entirely, at least as far as anyone had seen. Another could manipulate electricity, and could generate just enough sparks on his own to set fire to anything that was willing to burn. The third would turn ghostlike at will, so that every solid (or liquid, judging from the incident in the glue factory) would pass through her body. And the last, well, sometimes she could make patches of ground shake, but mostly she just seemed to lie on the floor a lot—except then someone noticed that the elephants at the local zoo were getting rather agitated, at times that correlated with known sightings of Them. G&K finally postulated that she could generate infrasound waves and somehow read their reflections to detect disturbances in the earth, which was a decent working assumption because there was no good explanation for  _ how  _ They knew when and where crime was happening in the first place.

Because that's what They did—fight crime, that is. At first, They all showed up together to every scene, because although each individual had pretty good control, They weren't a good team yet. You could see Their slight lack of coordination if you watched closely. But no one did watch closely, because They had the good sense to only deal with minor crimes at first, and escaped notice almost entirely. In fact, They were just a rumor for the first week or two, and allegedly the cause of a supposed citywide spike in demand for antipsychotics. The spike returned to normal after the attempted assassination of mayor Duke Weselton, when They both foiled the murder and apprehended the would-be murderers. The fantastical save finally generated a lot of publicity, if not the outright adoration that one might expect, mostly because Duke was so deeply unpopular that a significant portion of Arendelle’s citizens would have been happy to see him removed from office by any means. The crime rate in Arendelle was at that point nearly the highest it had ever been, certainly the highest in the country by a long shot, and Duke finally had the sense to step down after another two attempts on his life. 

It was the ghostlike one who answered the most important question, at least to the minds of the media. Competing among themselves to come up with catchy group titles was fun at first, but quickly devolved into the realms of tacky and overly alliterative. So when reporter Ella Cinders was granted one question by the super, and asked, “Who are all of you?” every journalist was secretly relieved, although they derided her in public. 

“We didn't really name ourselves,” the woman laughed, her very voice seeming to slip in and out of existence. “But if you need a name, then I suppose the Spirits will do.”

And that was that. Although, as time went on, the Spirits started working more independently, partnering up infrequently and banding together only for the most dire situations, no one ever seemed to entirely agree on names for them as individuals. Sometimes they used the colors of the diamonds on their suits—Blue, Green, Red, and Gold—but in the end, a Spirit was a Spirit, and it was a pointless endeavor to separate them if no one knew who they really were anyway. They were all polite, but as silent as possible, appearing and disappearing as if the Spirits had the collective power of invisibility. And maybe they did; no one knew.

Despite all the information laid out thus far, the public really seemed to know only one thing, which was that no one really  _ knew _ anything. But as people are all too apt to do when good fortune drops into their lives, no one really questioned it, for fear that they might drop  _ out  _ just as suddenly. 

This last notion was one that occupied the majority of Honeymaren’s thoughts; at least, far more of her thoughts than were spared for the ongoing lecture in front of her. To be entirely fair, she had just taken an exam for this course the previous day, and was actually one of the few to even show up today. But Maren hardly heard a word that her eminent and eminently boring professor cared to utter, and hurried out of the room when the lecture was over with only the most offhand of goodbyes. 

Maren went immediately to the library around the corner from the law school buildings, only pausing to grab a cup of coffee before parking herself in front of her favorite desktop computer. It was right by the window and at the end of a twisty little hallway, so it was fairly private, and Maren swore her login worked faster here than it did anywhere else. (It didn't.) 

She was originally planning on meeting her brother for lunch, but Maren was never the type to stick with a plan when her instincts told her otherwise. She was in her second year of law school, still fairly bright-eyed and eager and not  _ entirely _ dependent on caffeine like most of the third year population. There was an upcoming essay due on laws and social change, and although she had dismissed it as a two-days-from-now problem, well, her instincts were telling her otherwise. The more she thought about the whole situation with the Spirits, the more she realized that it was fragile, untenable, and without the system of checks and balances that was a policy undergrad’s bread and butter. So Honeymaren sat in that creaky old wooden chair in front of that creaky old computer for nearly six hours in a writing-induced fever. Perhaps this may seem like a long time for a talented law student to take on a four-page essay draft, even if it was single-spaced, but given the stir that it caused, it wasn’t a long time at all.

As the seventh hour was beginning, Maren watched as the library’s creaky old printer spat out her pages—her painstakingly crafted words started to fade around page two, were entirely illegible at page three, and the last was so blank as to be reusable in the printer. She swore (silently, because she was in a library), and resolved to print her draft the very next day in order to edit and finalize it.

However, as will sometimes happen when one starts an item on one’s agenda too early, Maren forgot about her draft, or rather neglected it, under the delusion of self-assurance. She turned her attention to admittedly more important matters until, right after another exam, she remembered that her essay was due at her next class. So she rushed to the engineering building (which, being part of the sciences, was actually properly funded and looked after by the school), and fumed at her own forgetfulness to the shiny new printer as it churned out her essay. 

Whether it was a good thing or not that Honeymaren’s draft remained unedited is uncertain at best, but no one would argue that it was unimpactful. Had Maren been able to look over what she’d written, she might have spied the trace of bitterness lurking in her essay. It bordered on resentful, this feeling of being perfectly ordinary seeping through her moderately eloquent words about those few who were extraordinary. Maren wasn’t a bitter or resentful person by nature; on the contrary, she was extremely empathetic, and didn’t actually agree with many of the sentiments that she’d written or implied. But she hadn’t the time to change her essay, to transform the rhetoric into something dryer and more articulate than what her frenzied, altered mind had managed to put down three days prior. So she stapled those fateful pages together and submitted them, and walked away feeling vaguely dirty—but mostly hungry, because her trip to the engineering school had cost her a lunch break.

It is difficult to determine precisely what happened next. Maren’s professor would occasionally submit his students’ best works to a newspaper or a journal, and he was just absent-minded enough that he may have forgotten to inform Maren of his doing so with her essay. But he was also absent-minded enough to leave the door to his office unlocked almost all of the time, where students and professors and non-university affiliated persons alike would stop by and help themselves to his jar of candy, and sometimes look through the papers that littered his desk. Whatever murky path it traveled, Maren’s essay made its way to Gerda Maid herself, who plunked it right on page five of G&K’s Sunday issue.

From there, it was catapulted into stardom. Anyone in Arendelle who could string together a coherent opinion managed to form one on this piece. Whoever he was, this anonymous writer who suggested creating an authority for the Spirits—the Spirits!—to serve under, they had some nerve. But more than that, it seemed that the writer, whoever he was, had included something far more poignant than a decently thought-out suggestion; he’d managed to tap oh-so-subtly into that secret current of jealousy that ran through nearly everyone’s veins at the thought of someone more super than they. With an outlet for those bitter emotions, and armed with an argument that could reasonably be marketed as beneficial to the greater good, Arendellians began to rise to action. Suddenly the opinion on the city’s local heroes wasn’t just on a scale between “great” and “fantastic,” but ranged all the way to “irresponsible and reckless” and, ironically, “selfish.” Brandishing the essay as their manifesto, a small but loud minority of politicians began to call for the most extreme measures it implied, of creating a registry or even revealing the Spirits’ identities to the public.

Honeymaren herself was completely oblivious to these developments, having spent most of her week in her tiny corner of the library studying frantically for her upcoming finals. In fact, it wasn’t until three days after the end of term, when she was getting brunch at Oaken’s with her brother, that she heard anything about the affair at all.

“And things have been pretty tense at work lately,” Ryder told her, “because Mattias thinks there’s some merit to the G&K article, while of course Kristoff is ready to go up in arms since Blue saved Sven’s life.”

“Wait, what?” Maren said, sitting up to attention and setting down the raspberry danish she’d been about to eat.

“Yeah, Sven almost got hit by a car last fall-”

“No, I know about that,” Maren cut him off. “What article?”

Ryder gawked at her. “You seriously don’t know? It’s, like, everywhere. Hang on, Oaken’s probably got a copy of it somewhere…” Ryder hurried after the burly shop owner, while Maren frowned at the table, trying to remember if she’d heard anything about it.

“Okay, here we go,” Ryder announced, pushing a few battered pages toward her. As Maren started to read, he slowly slid the danish towards his side of the table.

“What the fuck?!” Maren exclaimed, throwing down the paper as furiously as if it had called her a particularly nasty name. Ryder squawked and jerked backwards, sending the danish tumbling onto the ground. He hastily picked it up, and looked around the restaurant, where several people were looking in their direction.

“Sssh, Mare, we’re in public! Although I’ve got to agree-”

“Ryder,  _ I wrote this _ ,” Maren hissed, and Ryder nearly dropped the danish again. 

Placing it back on the plate, he stared at his sister in astonishment. “Are you for real?” he asked, and Maren nodded, deadly serious. “What – do you actually believe this stuff? That the Spirits should be regulated like a dog with a shock collar?” he demanded. “I mean, seriously-”

“No,”Maren shook her head passionately. “I don’t, Ry, I swear. It was for an assignment about the law and society, and I was messing around with devil’s advocate type stuff. It was just supposed to be a think piece!”

“This doesn’t read like a think piece,” Ryder eyed the article skeptically, and looked back at her. “It reads like…”

“A call to action,” Maren finished, and slumped back in her chair, defeated. She reached over and tore off a large piece of the danish, popping it into her mouth before Ryder could stop her. “I don’t know what to say. I just sat down and chugged this out a few weeks ago, and didn’t even give it a second look before I turned it in. I never imagined it would...how big is this, Ry?”

Ryder looked at her solemnly. “Pretty flippin’ big. Huge, actually.” Maren groaned, thumping her fist on the table.

“And they didn’t even give me credit for it!” she groused. “At least then I could write something else, say that a registry will do absolutely no good at all, and maybe people would listen. But I don’t have any proof, or anything. I don’t even know how it got to G&K in the first place.”

“Something like this would’ve happened, eventually,” Ryder said, trying to reassure her. “People always want to gain power over what they don’t control. Just...here, I’ll get you another danish.” He made a face at the pastry, as if it were responsible for this entire mess.

“I don’t want another!” Maren pouted. “I’m not hungry anymore, honestl – wait, what happened to this one?!”

But Ryder wasn’t listening, fishing in his pockets to pull out his buzzing cell phone. “Hey Kristoff!” he beamed, and Maren rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’m still down to go tonight – oh? Yeah, that sounds great! Let me ask Maren if she wants to go.” He turned back to Maren, who was scrutinizing her danish suspiciously. “Kristoff and I are going to hit the gym, maybe head over to Rocky’s afterward. You should come, take your mind off of...this,” he gestured at the newspaper abstractly.

“No thanks,” Maren muttered, folding up the paper and thrusting it to the other end of the table.

Understandably, Honeymaren was in a funk for the rest of the day. She read her article twice more back at their apartment, and upon the third reading, tore it up and burnt it in the fireplace.  _ What do you do with anonymized, unwanted fame for something you aren’t even proud of?  _ she wondered.

“Mare, you can’t sit here and grouch all night at something you have no control over,” Ryder said, crossing his arms. “Come with us. Kristoff is a really good boxer, you know, even Rocky was impressed.”

“...I wouldn’t mind punching something right now,” Maren admitted. 

So that night Maren met Kristoff for the first time, and they bonded rather quickly, as is wont to happen when two fairly-kindred spirits immediately engage in something so intimate as friendly hand-to-hand combat. Any lingering grouchiness on Maren’s part rapidly vanished, which was typical of her upbeat nature, and Ryder congratulated himself on escaping the bickering that happened whenever Maren was in a rare foul mood.

One week later, reports of a fifth Spirit began to circulate, and were soon confirmed by G&K.  Two weeks later, after a second boxing session, Kristoff invited the Nattura siblings to an employees’ night at the ice rink he worked at. Three weeks later, Maren was introduced to Kristoff’s fiancé Anna for the first time, as well as her cousin and cousin-in-law. All three of those people, and all three of those meetings, turned out to be rather important. But more important— _ much _ more important, for the purposes of this story—was the last person Maren met at this poorly-attended employees’ night.

You can probably guess her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's a bird! it's a plane! it's an AU with a ~super~ predictable setting  
> been sitting on this for a while but I wanted to be sure that I'd finish  
> as always, pls tell me what you think!  
> (also writing as a narrator was unexpectedly fun, wow)


	2. Natural

“Come _on_ , Elsa. It's the perfect opportunity to let off some…”

“Steam?” Elsa filled in, raising an eyebrow. She formed a tiny ball of ice and flicked it at her sister’s nose, and Anna batted it away without blinking.

“Ice,” Anna corrected, flashing her a smile. “I know you've been working hard with your training and other stuff, but it’s good to take a break. Besides, I bet you can have a bit of fun at the rink and no one will even notice. Pleeeease?” She held out her hand expectantly, and drew out the last word until Elsa relented.

“Fine.”

For the past four weeks, Elsa had been burning the candle at both ends—if that’s what you’d call a schedule that involved maximal physical activity and minimal time not working—and it was absolutely exhausting. If she was totally honest with herself, all she really wanted to do was use her only night off this week to catch up on some sleep. But Anna had always been difficult to say no to, even when they were kids, and now with their relationship newly rekindled…

_You only get one sister_ , Elsa reminded herself, and followed hers out the door.

...

She had never been to the rink before, and Kristoff laughed as she stared open-mouthed at the gleaming expanse of ice. “Nice, isn't it?” he said knowingly, and Elsa snapped her mouth shut to nod. 

“Be a little more obvious, Elsa,” Anna teased.

“I know,” she blushed. “It’s just...even now I don't usually make– _see_ ice that big,” she corrected, even though it was just the three of them. “And it's so pristine.”

“Nerd,” Anna scoffed playfully. “Oh! Size six, thanks babe,” she said, as Kristoff motioned in the direction of the rental booth, and Elsa gave hers as well.

“Size nine for me, babe,” a falsetto voice called out, and Ryder strode through the entrance, shortly followed by Rapunzel and Eugene. They exchanged greetings all around before Eugene accompanied Kristoff to grab the rest of the skates. “My sister is on her way too, she’s just coming from a work event,” Ryder remarked off-handedly. He was quite charming in an odd sort of way, Elsa thought, watching as he startled Rapunzel into a laugh. She had only met him a handful of times, and held as many conversations with him, but he never seemed to mind her silences. Also, he hadn’t tried to hit on her, which couldn’t really be counted in his favor given his rainbow keychain, but it was nice all the same.

As she double-knotted her laces, it occurred to Elsa that she was terribly out of practice at skating. The last time she'd set foot in a rink had been before the incident, nearly fifteen years ago. When she voiced this concern to Anna, though, her sister had laughed so hard that everyone else had looked at them curiously.

“You'll be fine,” Anna whispered, once she recovered.”Even if you somehow aren’t... _naturally_ talented at all, which I really, really doubt, you can't possibly be worse than I am. And I think the falling can be kind of fun, honestly. Especially because Kristoff has to catch me all the time,” she waggled her eyebrows smugly. Beside her, Kristoff sighed, but didn't contradict her. 

Anna was right on all counts, as it turned out. It took some getting used to, but soon she was able to get a sense of the ice beneath her—where it was pushing her, when she was about to slip, how she had to move to make it push her the right way. Ryder, Eugene, and Rapunzel stared in awe as she raced from one end of the rink to the other. Kristoff joined her to do a couple of laps, and Anna cheered them on as she clutched desperately at the walls.

Sometimes Elsa wondered if she was part of the reason that Anna was so wonderful as a kindergarten teacher. She was the elder sibling, and she’d done her best to support her sister from afar. But somewhere along the way in the last two years, Anna had become her rock, playing the roles of cheerleader and coach and generally seeming much wiser than she ought. Occasionally she felt guilty about this role reversal, but Anna never seemed to mind, and scolded her when she tried to apologize.

Being a hockey player, himself, Kristoff didn't know all of the figure skating tricks, but what he did know, he taught her. Almost immediately, she could skate backwards and do a basic spin, albeit very slowly. The basic jumps took longer to master, because she couldn't sense the ice very well without contacting it, and nearly fell twice. But eventually she could do everything that Kristoff could show her, and the ice felt as natural as if it were her own. It was exhilarating, and she laughed in delight as she glided circles around Anna. She wasn't entirely herself, but it was more, much more, than she ever got to be around regular people.

“She used to take lessons when we were younger,” Anna informed the others when they came around to the two of them, and Elsa watched their faces carefully for any sign of doubt, but found none. “Guess you just needed a refresher, huh?” Anna called out, raising her voice, and Elsa grinned, sweeping away to work on her spins. She lost herself in the movement, watching the rink and everyone in it fade into a blur as she tucked her arms in, moving faster and faster-

“Wow,” someone murmured from right behind her, and Elsa shrieked, losing her balance and falling backward. _No ice_ , she reminded herself frantically, and was relieved when her back hit the normal ice of the rink.

“Shit! Are you okay?” that same voice said, and at the edge of her vision appeared a face with an outstretched hand. Elsa ignored both for a moment, pushing herself back to a standing position. The fall would probably leave a bruise, but her standards for a bad bruise had undergone a rapid transformation in the last month. “I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to distract you.” Elsa opened her mouth to retort—because seriously, she was in the middle of a spin—but then she turned around, and felt the words die on her tongue.

The woman was stunningly beautiful. Not in that cold, untouchable way that Elsa knew herself to be—she was quite the opposite, with warm, tan skin and deep hazel eyes. Her dark hair was braided and tucked into her jacket, and her full lips were pressed together in concern as she awaited Elsa’s reply. “It’s fine. No harm done,” Elsa managed, and watched the woman’s expression melt into a relieved smile. 

“Mare!” Ryder shouted, from somewhere behind her, and the woman looked over Elsa’s shoulder to wave at him. “Skates are over there,” he pointed, and she gave him a thumbs up. 

“I’m Maren,” the woman said, with another smile. “Ryder’s sister.” She pulled off one glove to extend a hand.

“Elsa.” She shook Maren’s hand, trying not to react as a jolt of electricity shot through her fingers when they connected.

“Elsa,” Maren repeated, and they stared at each other for another moment until Maren shook herself and dropped Elsa’s hand. “I’m gonna go, uh, get some skates,” she said, and Elsa nodded, watching her walk away as she tried to compose herself.

_What was that?_

She turned around to rejoin the rest of their group, which was slowly doing laps around the ice. Their snail-like pace was mostly due to Anna, who was being led and very heavily supported by Kristoff as he skated backwards. Anna looked up as she arrived, and seemed to read something from Elsa’s expression as her brow furrowed. 

Eugene was trying to convince Rapunzel to spin in a circle with him, with very little success. “You good?” Her sister murmured to her, underneath the laughter.

“Yeah,” Elsa nodded, feeling more composed now that she was away from Maren. She managed a smile as Anna lurched backward for the umpteenth time, only kept upright by Kristoff. “Maybe focus on your own well-being right now,” she added playfully.

“Hey! I’m getting the hang of it,” Anna defended. “Aren’t I, Kristoff?”

“This is better than last time,” Kristoff confirmed resignedly, and Anna stuck out her tongue in victory. Elsa glanced around to make sure no one was looking and lightly froze the tip of it. 

“Agh! Eltha, you juhk!” Her sister tried to push her away, but Elsa easily avoided the contact, laughing.

“What did she do?” Rapunzel asked, slowing down to be level with them.

“Made fun of my skating skills,” Anna said, her words coming out a little clumsily still, and Elsa bit back another giggle as Anna shot her a dirty look. Kristoff smiled as well, but a little uncertainly, as if he didn’t know what to make of her mood. Elsa supposed this wasn’t her usual behavior, but it had been a _long_ week, and the sense of freedom was so strong that she was almost giddy with it.

“Don’t worry, Anna, you’ve got another contender for ‘worst skater’ coming right here,” Ryder joked, and they slowed down near the entrance of the rink as Maren shuffled onto the ice. “My sister, Honeymaren,” he introduced.

“Ugh, just Maren, please,” Maren grimaced, waving at each member of the party as they introduced themselves. “And unfortunately, Ryder’s right, I am really out of practice. I might need a few minutes to get my ice legs sorted out.” She started to move along the wall, testing out movements.

“We’ll wait you out. Blondie here does need a break,” Eugene said with a grin, and Rapunzel rolled her eyes but followed him off the ice.

“I still don’t get why he calls her that,” Ryder muttered, eyeing Rapunzel’s dark brown hair.

“Oh, Maren! You should use Elsa,” Anna said, apropos of _nothing at all_ , and Elsa whipped around to stare at her. “As a Kristoff, I mean. She can pull you, it helps a lot.” Elsa scowled at her, but Anna only stuck out her tongue again.

“I don’t know if I’m reliable enough to…” Elsa started, but realized that wouldn’t fly after all of the showing off she’d done. Unable to think of an excuse, she finished, “Okay. If you’d like,” turning back to Maren.

The woman looked surprised, but nodded. “Uh, sure, if it’s not any trouble,” she said gratefully. “Hang on, I just want to adjust these a little.” She bent down to fiddle with her laces, and Elsa took the opportunity to fix Anna with another glare.

“What?” Anna whispered, gliding unsteadily toward her. “She seems awesome, according to Ryder. You guys might get along. Plus, she’s cute as hell.” She gave Elsa a knowing smirk.

“Anna!” Elsa whispered, completely taken aback. _How did Anna even know she was gay?_

But behind her, Maren was getting to her feet again, and Anna put a hand on her shoulder to turn her around. Reluctantly, Elsa moved towards her and held out her hands. She kept her eyes on Maren’s shoulders, steadfastly ignoring the warmth that soaked into her skin even through Maren’s gloves. She hoped that Maren wasn’t as charming as her brother was.

“Aren’t you cold?” Maren asked, as they began to move. Elsa glanced down at her sleeveless sweater and bare hands. Even if the cold did bother her, she couldn’t bear to wear gloves—her bodysuit was the only one of the five to be fingerless.

“No,” she said crisply, and felt a glimmer of satisfaction at Maren’s silence.

It didn’t last for long. “Are you Anna’s sister?” Maren asked, watching their feet move together.

“Yes,” Elsa answered, but this time, Maren didn't seem deterred at all by her short answer.

“Older or younger?”

“Older.”

“I knew it,” Maren declared, looking up at her. The smile on her face made Elsa’s heart clench, and she returned it unwillingly. “You definitely have the older sister vibe. People usually think that I’m the older one too, but actually we’re twins- _whoa!_ ” Maren’s toe caught on the ice, and she tripped forwards. Without thinking, Elsa let go of Maren’s hands to grab her waist. Maren flailed for a moment, and gripped Elsa’s shoulders to steady herself.

“Thanks,” the other woman said, a little breathlessly. She was very close—too close—but Elsa couldn’t bring herself to push her away.

“No problem,” she answered finally, dropping her hands. Maren let go of Elsa’s shoulders as well, but then she trailed her hands all the way down Elsa’s bare arms to take up her hands again.

“You are cold,” Maren accused lightly when she saw Elsa’s shiver.

She wasn’t. She felt like she was burning all over. “Only a little.”

“...I think I can go a little faster,” Maren said, trying to be helpful. Elsa just nodded, and started up again.

...

“I saw that,” Anna said, as Elsa skated past her on the bench.

She had just done a decent waltz jump, and managed to orchestrate a lovely ice spray with her landing, but she had the feeling that wasn’t what her sister meant. She circled back and stopped in front of Anna. “Saw what?” she asked.

“You. Maren. The _chemistry_ ,” Anna said, waggling her hands. Elsa held back a smile at her sister’s antics and pursed her lips instead.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said evenly. “And I don’t believe we ever discussed my...sexuality, either-”

“Elsa, the strongest word I’ve _ever_ heard you use about a guy’s appearance was ‘nice,’” Anna interrupted. “And you looked at Maren like you wanted to _eat_ her.”

“I did not!” Elsa said, indignant.

“Did too.”

“Did no–okay, no, we’re not doing this.”

“No,” Anna agreed. “It’s Maren you’re gonna be doing.”

“ _Anna_ ,” Elsa growled, feeling the blush rise to her cheeks.

“Why are you running from this?” Anna asked, abruptly serious. “I saw how she made you laugh, Els.” It was true. Maren hadn’t been as charming as her brother—she’d been worse. 

Elsa looked at her sister’s face, earnest and wide-eyed, and the truth spilled out before she knew it. “I can’t afford it,” her mouth said. “I can’t balance the day job and the night job _and_ a commitment like that. I’m running ragged as it is, I don’t have the energy to deal with any more complications.”

“That’s bullshit,” Anna informed her coolly. “Predictable, and bullshit. What, are you going to stay single for the rest of your life? You don’t have to sacrifice everything for king and country, or mayor and city, whatever. In fact, I think now more than ever you could use more people on your team.”

“Anna, I don’t-” Elsa started.

“I’m not telling you to ask her to marry you tonight,” Anna forged ahead, as if she hadn’t spoken. “Heck, maybe she’s sending the worst signals ever and isn’t even into you. But at least be open to it, okay? Put yourself out there, see where it goes. If you realize it’s too much, then you’re allowed to change your mind.” She held Elsa’s gaze until she dropped her head in defeat.

“Okay,” she caved. In the end, it was easier to try and fail than it was to disappoint her sister.

“Okay,” Anna repeated, looking smug. “Glad that’s settled. As you were.” She waved Elsa away, and with a roll of her eyes, she went.

...

Maren couldn't tear her eyes away.

It was a miracle she didn't fall, honestly. She had spent so much time staring into Elsa’s gorgeous blue eyes and trying to make her smile that she'd paid almost no attention to figuring out how to skate properly, and the result was that she was just barely managing to keep up with the other three as they made their way around the rink. But even now, she couldn't bring herself to care, watching Elsa move with such perfect grace that it was like she was born from the ice.

“Maren!” her brother called.

With a start, she realized that she was alone on the ice, apart from Elsa, who was gliding towards her. Everyone else had gotten out at the exit a few feet back, and she awkwardly turned herself back around to follow. As she was stepping out, she felt a chill behind her, and suddenly Elsa’s hand was at her back, guiding her off. Maren forced herself not to stiffen, but she couldn't help pressing slightly more into the contact. Then Elsa stepped to the side, and the touch was gone so quickly that Maren wondered if it had just been her imagination.

“Any dinner plans, Elsa?” Eugene asked, as Elsa sat down next to him to unlace her skates.

“Not really,” she replied.

“Great! Now you have some,” Eugene grinned. “Tiana’s okay?”

“Lovely,” Elsa said, but her night-sky gaze was on Maren as she said it, and Maren’s next breath felt a little shallow. She took the adjacent seat, and felt Elsa tense when she accepted her invitation as well.

“What is Tiana’s?” Ryder asked the question she was about to voice herself, and Maren heard Elsa whisper an _oh no_ under her breath.

“What is Tiana’s? What is Tiana’s?!” Eugene repeated, a hint of hysteria in his voice. Ryder stood up to return his skates, and Eugene went with him, looking thoroughly aggrieved. “Oh, my friend, you've got a lot to learn…” 

Maren waited until he was out of earshot, and then muttered, “What _is_ Tiana’s?”

“It's a New Orleans style seafood place that does takeout.” Elsa answered. “Eugene probably gets half of his meals from there. World-class gumbo, or so he says.” That hint of warmth was back in her voice, the one she got when she talked about her family, and Maren jumped on it instinctively.

“And what do you say about it?” she asked.

“Does it matter?” Elsa responded, tugging on a pair of pristine white sneakers. Despite the words, her tone was mildly curious.

“You seem trustworthy,” Maren shrugged, focusing on her own combat boots. “Didn't let me fall on my face, which there was a _lot_ of opportunity for. And your opinions aren't very obvious, either, so I wouldn’t mind hearing them.”

“My opinions aren’t very obvious?” Elsa echoed, but she didn’t seem offended, and Maren shrugged again.

“Not to me.”

“Couldn’t that be merely a reflection of _your_ perceptive ability?” the blonde mused, mirroring Maren as she stood up.

“That’s true,” Maren conceded. “You could just be a weakness of mine,” she ventured, chancing a grin. Elsa didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and in the silence Maren lost herself in the other woman’s intense blue eyes. 

At last Elsa turned around abruptly and started walking to the exit. “The gumbo _is_ rather good,” she called over her shoulder, and Maren laughed as she scrambled to grab her skates and follow.

...

Eugene and Rapunzel’s apartment was on the smaller side, but their liquor cabinet was quite the opposite.

“Okay, you’ve gotta try this one,” Eugene said, squeezing between Ryder and the chameleon tank with a mostly empty bottle of whiskey, nearly knocking over the music speaker in the process.

“Alright, but only a little,” Maren said, caught up in his enthusiasm. “Only a _little_!” she protested, as Eugene showed no signs of stopping.

“Eugene!” Rapunzel scolded, as the last drops trickled into Maren’s glass.

“I’ve got to,” Eugene whined. “Maren, you’re the first person besides me to appreciate my collection in so long, you have no idea.”

“Hey!” Kristoff objected.

“You just go for the IPAs,” Eugene retorted. “Blondie and Ryder don’t care for anything that isn’t at least half sugar, Anna is a total lightweight, and Elsa…” he gestured vaguely.

“Yeah?” Maren prompted curiously. A bit too curiously, apparently, as she watched Eugene’s expression shift into a sly grin.

“Ah, don’t think I haven’t noticed _that_ ,” he said. 

“What?” Maren deflected, affecting nonchalance as she sipped at the whiskey.

“Please, you’re hardly the first to go after Elsa,” Eugene rolled his eyes. Kristoff and Rapunzel looked at her inquiringly, and Maren blushed unwillingly, which she knew was confirmation enough.

“I’m not _going after_ her!” she said weakly. “I just...want to...I don’t know.”

“She does seem to like you, at least.” Rapunzel spoke up, and Maren looked at her in astonishment.

“Really?” she asked.

“Elsa’s a tough read,” Eugene said, and they all glanced over to the woman in question. She was leaning against the kitchen table, listening to Anna and Ryder’s conversation with a small smile on her face. “I went to the same high school as her, actually,” he continued, so quietly he could hardly be heard over the music. “There was a reason everyone called her ‘the Ice Queen.’”

“She’s just very shy,” Kristoff interjected earnestly, and Rapunzel nodded.

“Oh, absolutely,” Eugene agreed. “Heart of gold, too. Just a tough read, is all I’m saying.” Maren thought back to their conversations, Elsa’s studious silences and careful manner, and was suddenly filled with warmth. Here, she decided, was a woman she was going to get to know better.

(In more ways than one, if she was really lucky, but she didn't want to get ahead of herself.)

“Cheers,” she said, and downed the rest of her glass.

...

Maren was _getting to her_ , and Elsa didn't know what to do about it.

Mindful of Anna’s advice, she started to respond properly to Maren’s attempts at conversation when they ended up alone in the kitchen together. (She still had her suspicions about _that_ , given how quick Eugene was to excuse himself.) Although she still felt stilted and inarticulate, spending far too much time just to find words that said too little, the other woman’s eyes practically glowed with excitement. She’d felt like a deer in headlights before the other woman had even opened her mouth; now, she’d nearly frozen her martini when Maren laughed at a remark of hers, broad smile and crinkled eyes lingering. And to make matters worse, Maren was asking her questions that bordered on personal, certainly far more so than anything a near-stranger would dare, and she was _answering_. Spirits help her, she’d almost started to give her the (powers censored) version of the childhood incident with Anna before catching herself.

“Our relationship had its rough patches,” she opted for instead.

“I mean, it's still incredible what you did for her, with college and everything,” Maren said sincerely. “Anna told me,” she added, at Elsa’s stunned expression. “How you kept working to put her through university even though there would’ve had to be some rough patches in those years. I think that's insanely admirable, although I know my opinion probably doesn't matter to you.” She ran a self-conscious hand through her hair.

The thing was, this woman’s opinion did matter—it mattered far more than it should. Well, enough was enough, Elsa thought. She had given opening up a try, and it just wasn't something she was ready for. Maren was wonderful, amazing even, but this whole thing was way too much and way too soon and not the right time at all. She needed to get out of this conversation and rejoin the others in the living room. “Thank you,” she answered. “I…” she trailed off, nodded her head in the direction she was headed, and decided that would have to suffice.

Except stepping past Maren, brushing against the curve of her hip, it was as if she had finally flown too close to the sun, and her precious control melted like wax. Her hands moved without her own volition, and suddenly she was pinning Maren against the edge of the table. Maren’s eyes were molten gold, and when she reached up towards Elsa so naturally, like a tree toward the light, there was really only one thing she could do.

Maren tasted like whiskey and roses, and kissed her smoother than a dream. Patterns swam like fireworks behind her eyes, glowing and curling, and when she opened them Maren was looking at her as well, pupils blown wide in the brightly lit kitchen.

“Would you like to have dinner with me some time?” Maren asked, fingers dipping into the high neck of her sweater, skimming along the nape of her neck. 

_Not a good idea_ , she thought. 

“Okay,” Elsa said, and was drawn back into Maren’s lips again. She could feel Maren’s smile, knew that she was mirroring it back, and diverted her frantic mind by slipping her tongue into Maren’s mouth. The moan that she heard in response was enough to derail every train of thought immediately, and when Maren pulled away she didn’t know if it had been seconds or years.

“On second thought,” Maren said breathlessly, lips swollen and impossibly pink, “would you like to come back to my place?”

That was a _bad_ idea, bad bad _bad,_ and she wanted to agree. Ice simmered just beneath her skin, but her pulse was strangely slow, almost as if her heart knew she was fighting a losing battle.

“Mine is probably closer,” she heard herself say, and Maren gave her a heated look that had her feeling weak at the knees—or maybe that was just general panic, she didn’t even know anymore. She slipped away to let Anna know that she was leaving, dreading and craving the smile that would light up her sister’s face when she pried the reason out of her.

_It’s just one night_ , she was going to say, _it’s not a big deal if I don’t allow it to be._ But her ice didn’t quite settle, and already she thought that she might lose her heart’s war, too.

...

Maren had always been a rather light sleeper.

A quiet shuffling lured her out of her dreams at first, and then as she registered that the noise was in her room, her eyes flew open.

She wasn’t in her room at all, she realized immediately, and the sheets beside her were warm but empty. A pale figure was rummaging in the closet at the other end of the room, and Maren’s heart warmed as she remembered exactly where she was, and why. “Elsa?” she called out sleepily, and the figure jumped, turning around. Maren sucked in a breath; Elsa was, if anything, even more beautiful in the moonlight, which trickled through the window like a spotlight. Maren had never been one for the visual arts, but she wished for a moment that she had a camera to capture the wide-eyed statue in front of her, bruises and all.

(Elsa said she'd tripped, but she must’ve fallen down the whole flight of stairs, judging by the patch on her hip.)

“Just taking a walk,” Elsa murmured. “I don’t usually sleep through the night, so…”

“Do you want me to come with?” Maren asked, already pushing herself up.

“No, it’s okay,” Elsa said hastily, and Maren searched her expression for a sign that something was off. But the other woman seemed okay, if a little tense, so she nodded and let it go. In a few strides, Elsa was at the head of the bed, bending over to give her a heart-stopping kiss; and just as quickly, she was gone.

Maren always woke up relatively easily in the night, but she fell asleep quickly too, and in the morning Elsa was curled up around her like she’d never left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got a couple questions—would it be too jarring to switch between narrative and personal voice from one chapter to the next? There are some more scenes I want to narrate, but otherwise I'll just have it be the prologue in that style. Also, shorter chapters (~2k words) with faster updates, or 4-5k and slower?  
> I'm kinda lost in the woods here


	3. Move It or Lose It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback, especially on the style changes! I'm going to try to update every four days from now on :)

**_Eighteen months later_ **

Maren stood in front of the enormous wooden desk, back straight, trying her hardest not to fiddle with the cuffs of her blazer. She stayed absolutely silent as the woman on the other side of the desk typed rapidly away at her computer. With a final few clicks, the woman leaned back in her chair, crossed something off of her notepad, and turned towards her. “Honeymaren,” she greeted. Maren bit her lip against an instinctive correction and nodded instead.

“Yelena,” she said. “You asked to see me?”

“Have a seat,” Yelena gestured, and Maren did so, twisting her hands nervously now that they were out of sight. “I’d like to lead off by congratulating you on your work with the Agnes case. Your research and prep work was extremely thorough, and I know Mattias really appreciated it, as of course did Ms. Agnes.” 

Maren smiled, remembering how Esmeralda had cried in relief and jumped up to hug the whole team after her acquittal. “Thank you.”

“I’m going to have a meeting with a potential client tomorrow. The whole thing is going to be highly confidential, and even more so if he does decide to retain us.” Yelena continued, never one to mince words. “I know we haven’t had much opportunity to work together before, but the case seems...unusual, to say the least, and I’d like you to be part of it.”

“Of course,” Maren said, knowing she wasn’t really asking. Unable to contain her curiosity, she added, “Unusual in what way?”

“It involves the Spirits,” Yelena answered, and her lip twitched at Maren’s obvious astonishment. “Of course, we haven’t been presented with a situation like this before, and I must confess that I feel a little unsure about it myself. However, Mattias told me about the article that you wrote two years ago, for G&K?” Maren nodded again, confused. “It did cause quite a stir, and I think it would be nice to have that extra bit of firepower as an attraction for our team.” 

_ Like I’m a showpony,  _ Maren thought, as she left the office afterwards. But she didn’t begrudge Yelena’s strategy. It was really her own fault for mentioning it to Mattias at the gala last week, but in her defense, they  _ had _ been a couple of drinks in and talking about journalism integrity. She’d never once thought that he might remember the fact, nor that it would ever be relevant to her job.

The undercurrent of animosity that she had accidentally raised toward the Spirits was just that, an undercurrent, for one single, unassailable reason: the Spirits didn’t really make mistakes. In the nearly three years that they’d been active, no fatalities had occurred except for obvious cases of self-defense, property damage had been insured or paid for with mysterious cash deliveries, and they only ever intervened in crimes that had more than enough proof of guilt. And the effect they’d had was huge, transforming Arendelle from an almost irreparably corrupt city to a place where decent people could actually make a living. Maren herself had been mugged twice during her first year at law school, once at gunpoint. So while people still argued that the Spirits held far too much power to go around unchecked, no one had ever done anything about it.

Until now, she supposed. They were going to find out the details tomorrow afternoon, at their first meeting with the client, and already she was burning to know what someone could possibly have against their local superheroes. But as she entered a familiar brick building to ring the buzzer, she put her curiosity aside. Tonight she had something else to focus on.

She bounded up the stairs to the second floor to see a flash of pale blonde hair in the crack of the door. “Jammed again?” Maren asked, grinning as she heard a quiet swear on the other side. A sudden blast of cool air washed over her, and she shivered. A moment later, there was the screech of an ill-fitting latch coming undone, and then the door swung open to reveal a familiar face on the other side.

“I swear I’ll order a replacement this evening,” Elsa sighed, although her expression brightened when she took in the sight of her. Maren’s heart rattled in its ribcage, as it always did when she was the subject of that intense stare. “Hold on, I’m just finishing up something.” Elsa padded toward the bedroom, leaving Maren to set down her bag and trail after her.

Elsa’s desk was nearly as cluttered as it was organized, neat stacks of paper lined up with scarcely an inch between them. In the midst of it was a computer audibly whirring away, running a program that Maren had come to vaguely recognize the look of. Elsa sat cross-legged on her chair, engrossed in her work, although she hummed happily when Maren wrapped her arms around her, settling her head on top of Elsa’s as she watched. She breathed in the crisp wintery scent of Elsa’s perfume and toyed idly with a blonde lock of hair at her fingers as she watched commands and images flash across the screen, piecing together a video.

“Got it,” Elsa said, a few minutes later. She pointed to the monitor, showing Maren the finished product. Maren gasped quietly as the software played an incredibly realistic animation of a tree hitting the ground.

“That’s amazing, Els,” she commented.

“I’ve still got to fix the lighting shift here,” Elsa indicated casually, but her ears were red and she looked rather pleased with herself. “The tricky part was getting the view to shake correctly along with the tree’s impact.”

“Play it again,” Maren urged, and watched again in awe. She didn’t have the eye of an animator, but it looked quite complicated all the same, and she knew that this latest project had been causing Elsa quite a bit of grief.

“Alright, is it time for dinner?” Elsa asked, standing up and stretching. “Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a Greek place that just opened two blocks over,” Maren suggested. 

“On Isles, right?” 

“Of course.” Elsa had the most detailed knowledge of the city that Maren had ever seen. The blonde blamed it on midnight walks and twenty-five years of living in the city, but Maren still thought it was insane that she’d never once needed to look at a map when accompanied by her girlfriend.

“Sounds good.” Elsa moved to grab her coat, but Maren caught her by the wrist. “What?” Elsa asked, though she came willingly into Maren’s arms,

“Just saying hi,” she hummed, standing on her toes just the slightest bit to reach Elsa’s lips.

“Hi,” her girlfriend laughed, kissing her once, twice, before pulling away. She didn’t drop her hand, though, and Maren held it in hers all the way to the restaurant, and all the way back.

...

Back at Elsa’s apartment, they put on a movie, both of them knowing full well that Elsa was going to start dozing off an hour in. “Might as well put on an action film,” Elsa even said brazenly.

“I’ll never understand why action movies bore you so easily,” Maren laughed, but she did it anyway, and sure enough, Elsa was asleep in her lap by the first fight scene. Maren herself spent much of her time staring at the pale, peaceful face beneath her, wondering at how quickly seeing it had become the highlight of her days. 

She was ready.

“Hey,” she said casually, as the credits rolled down the screen. Elsa was half-conscious by then, having an almost superhuman knack for waking up at the end of a movie. Her girlfriend shifted and sat up, and Maren winced slightly when she realized her legs had fallen asleep along with Elsa.

“Sorry,” Elsa smiled sheepishly, reaching over to rub her thigh. “What’s up?”

She felt a flash of indecision, but brushed it away, knowing in her heart that this was the next right thing for them. “Well, we’ve been together for a while,” she said, a little awkwardly, “and I was kinda wondering if you wanted to move in together.”

The hand on her leg froze. Maren traced it upwards to see Elsa’s blue eyes laser-focused on her, as if she were trying to read her thoughts. 

“Do you?” Elsa asked carefully.

“Yeah, I do,” Maren said, and watched those eyes widen with a sinking feeling. “I mean, we already spend—what, three, four nights together per week? It doesn’t feel like a big leap to me, especially since I, I love you, Els.” She wanted to say more, tell her that she  _ felt _ like home to her now, even more than her and Ryder’s apartment did. That there was a wonderful one-bedroom on this side of town that her friend was vacating in another two months, just a few weeks after Elsa’s lease would end. 

But Elsa had withdrawn her hand entirely and was shaking her head. “I don’t know, Honey,” she said quietly, almost gently, but Maren felt it like a punch in the gut all the same. 

“Can I ask why? Is it too soon?” Maren questioned, trying not to let the hurt show in her voice.

“I-no. Yes. I don’t know,” Elsa shook her head again helplessly, and Maren felt a spark of frustration.

“Which is it, then?” she asked, a little more loudly than she intended. “It’s been a year and a half, Elsa, and I’ll wait longer if I have to, but if it’s something that won’t get fixed with time then-”

“Do we have to move in at all?” Elsa interrupted, raising her voice too, and Maren flinched.  _ That’s what a life together means,  _ she thought, and opened her mouth to say the words, but Elsa stood up suddenly.

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” she stammered, looking as frazzled as Maren had ever seen her. “Just...give me a second, Mare.” So Maren waited and watched Elsa pace across the room, her heart thumping painfully with every silent step.

“I love you,” Elsa said finally, coming back to the sofa, and Maren smiled instinctively. Elsa wasn’t one for affectionate words, which made the ones she did say feel a lot more precious. She reached out, and Elsa took her hand, tapping her fingertips restlessly against Maren’s wrist.

“I’ve been living on my own for five years now. Except when Anna came back for summers after college, and the couple months before she moved in with Kristoff, it’s been just me.” Maren clenched her jaw instinctively, imagining Elsa coming back from her two shifts at two jobs to a dark and empty home.

“I’m used to it,” Elsa carried on. “I don’t know if that’s a good thing, but it is what it is. So I need some time to figure myself out, and…”

“Process?” Maren filled in.

“Yes,” Elsa said gratefully. “Process the idea of no longer having a space that’s just mine, and think about whether I can do it.”

“Okay,” Maren said, unhappy but understanding.

“Okay,” Elsa echoed, leaning forward to kiss her chastely. “I’m going to head to Anna’s for a bit,” Elsa informed her, standing again. “Just for an hour at most, so you don’t have to come if you don’t want to.” The decision was obviously not pre-planned, considering that she had already changed into pajamas, but Maren guessed that she wanted to talk through their conversation with her sister.

“I’m alright, I’ll just turn in.” She didn’t even have to fake the yawn that followed. 

“Okay,” Elsa said, looking faintly relieved. “Good night, then.”

“Good night,” Maren responded, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand. Elsa blushed, and the ache in her chest eased up just a little.

_ We're gonna get through this. _

...

“Elsa?”

“Hey. Can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Of course. Do you want to come over now?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve just left my apartment.”

“Are you coming the normal way or being speedy?”

“Just walking.”

“Okay, see you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Elsa snapped the phone shut and sighed. It was so easy with Anna. Not that it wasn’t easy with Maren, but…sometimes it wasn’t. Like today. She knew her life could be a whole lot more difficult to navigate with someone else, though; she was lucky that Maren was so laidback, that she had her trust.

_ Trust that you’re about to gamble away, _ a voice whispered. She shook off the thought, and spent the rest of the walk to Anna’s scanning the streets, a reflexive habit even though it wasn’t her active night. But everything was quiet in the few blocks that separated her and her sister, and she found herself walking faster and faster, trying to outpace her whirling mind. Soon she was stepping into Anna and Kristoff’s apartment, narrowly avoiding being tackled by Sven.

“Hi buddy,” she laughed, doing her best to fend off the enormous Newfoundland. Sven jumped up twice more before backing away from the door, and Anna was right behind him waiting to enfold her in a hug.

“Hey sis,” Anna murmured into her ear. “It’s been too long.”

“Four days is too long?” Elsa teased, pulling away. 

“Sven certainly thinks so,” Anna grinned, and Elsa momentarily forgot about the battle raging inside her mind. Behind them, Kristoff was watching some sort of sports match on the television, but he diverted his attention to give her a wave and a smile. “Do you want to chat in the kitchen?” Anna beckoned, and Elsa took the proffered hand without hesitation.

“Anything to drink?” Elsa shook her head, some of the panic resurfacing again from her conversation with Maren, and Anna’s face grew serious as they both took a seat. “Okay, spill.”

“Maren asked me to move in,” she responded immediately, the words tumbling off her tongue. Anna nodded, her face impressively blank.

“What will you say?”

She considered the question again, as if it hadn’t already been haunting her for the past twenty minutes. “If I say yes, then I have to tell her,” she said quietly. “I can hide it now, but if we’re together then she’ll notice the nights, or the phone, or something, and that’ll be so much worse.”

“Yeah,” Anna agreed. “But you’re afraid of how she’ll react.” It wasn’t a question, but Elsa nodded anyway.

“And it's not just the powers, anymore. It's the whole...lifestyle,” she waved her hands obscurely. 

“I took it pretty well. So did Kristoff.” her sister pointed out.

“You were the one who encouraged the Spirit thing in the first place,” Elsa countered. “And Kristoff wanted to be part of your life, not mine. You just had to be worth the crazy sister.” The corners of Anna’s lips pulled downward.

“Maren will still want to be a part of yours,” her sister said firmly, but Elsa’s insides twisted in fear at the alternative, and it was all she could think of.

“What if she doesn't? Even if she doesn't care about the secret itself, I've already broken her trust just by keeping it from her this long. Being a Spirit is an important part of my life, but I can't lose Maren over it. I can't, Anna.”

“I know, Elsa-” Anna tried to soothe her.

“Things are great as they are!” Her voice cracked, and she realized distantly that Kristoff would be able to hear. “I just want to stay like this. And sometimes I  _ like _ that she doesn't know. I like that she doesn't worry, and that I can just come home and be myself-”

“But you're not yourself!” Anna said forcefully, and Elsa was stunned into silence. “Being a Spirit isn't just part of your life, it's part of  _ you. _ So are your powers. You can't go on like this, Elsa. You can't hide yourself from someone you love, someone who loves you. And I know you don't really want to, either.”

Anna’s words hit her harder than a punch from Nokk, leaving her shaky and doubtful. It was funny, how brave she was behind a mask when she was so clearly a coward without it. “Kristoff?” she called out, and he appeared almost immediately, leaning against the fridge. A loud shout went up from the television, and she realized something big must have happened in the match, but Kristoff ignored it entirely. She felt a rush of affection and asked, “What do you think?”

To his credit, Kristoff didn't pretend that he hadn't heard them. He was straightforward like that. “If she’s it for you, then I think you should tell her,” he said. “You'll have to do it some time anyway, and it only gets harder the longer you wait.”

“Spoken like a guy who took five months to ask me out,” Anna teased, and he blushed. She added something else, but Elsa missed it, the words drowned out by a familiar four-note hum in her ear. She strode over to her handbag and yanked out her burner phone.

_ 3rd and Willard convenience store. Armed robbery. G _


	4. all is found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> backstory! some violence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a beast, and i'm still not very happy with it  
> Suggestions are very much appreciated! This is my first foray into action, so I don't quite know what I'm doing

_3rd and Willard convenience store. Armed robbery. G_

“I’ve got to go,” Elsa said immediately, typing back her one-letter response. “Can I change in your bathroom?” 

“Sure,” Anna replied, although she had already entered it and closed the door. “What is it?”

“Robbery,” Elsa called back, her voice rather muffled as she tugged off her T-shirt. Seriously, the one superhero movie of Maren’s that she'd managed to stay awake for had skipped entirely over the issue of dressing and undressing. Sure, you could give Clyde Kirk or whatever his name was super speed, but where does he put his regular clothes when he’s Superman, or his wallet? She's lucky that she can carry around a bag all the time and that she doesn't have to wear too many layers in the winter, and even then it's _such_ a _hassle_. 

“Are you planning to come back afterward?” Anna asked, as she emerged in her suit. Elsa glanced down at the silver diamond on the black fabric covering her wrist, checking the time. It was nearly eleven, which meant Maren would be asleep by the time she got back.

“Yes, I’ll keep my bag here.” Knowing there was no time to hesitate, she nodded a goodbye to them both and went over to the windowsill.

“Okay I love you! Be safe! I think you should move in with Maren-” Anna’s shout followed her out of the window, mixing in with Kristoff’s calmer “good luck.” It said a lot about how much faith Anna had in her that she wasn’t visibly frantic with worry, considering the state Elsa would be in if their situations were reversed. Although perhaps it wasn’t faith in her so much as in routine—she used the apartment as a stopping point so often that Anna always left the window unlocked. And maybe it was the province of an older sibling anyway, to worry.

At this point, it was second nature to form icy hand- and footholds as she climbed up the building, and by the time she reached the roof she had her route planned out. Third and Willard was southeast of her, and Anna’s building was tall enough that she had no interference for nearly the entire way. Thrusting out her hands, she felt that familiar, wonderful tug in her navel, as if turning on a faucet deep within herself. A cable of ice erupted from her fingers, attaching to the edge of the roof and ending at a distant structure. She tugged on it gently, and was pleasantly surprised at how rope-like she had managed to get the texture. She fashioned a poor but functional harness with another burst of ice, and took a running start to jump over the edge of the building, racing over the city on her makeshift zipline. It was dark enough that she couldn’t be seen by anyone on the ground, so she used the time to prepare, allowing her magic to fizz just beneath her skin.

At the end of the line, she vanished the whole structure into remnants of flurries. Since she was only a block away and their designated rendezvous for the area was on the rooftop, she opted to run. There was a little soreness lingering from the practice session two nights ago, but the ache in her muscles faded with every step as her feet found a rhythm. She hardly paused in her stride as she formed the last snow-covered steps to bound up to the rooftop one story above, where a familiar outline stood waiting, the gold diamond on his chest gleaming faintly.

“Nice work,” he said, catching Elsa’s hands to stop her momentum. As soon as she was steady, he strode quickly to the opposite corner of the roof, talking rapidly. “I think these are the same guys who did the one on 7th last week. Same delivery van on the corner there,” he pointed. “Two of them went in a minute and a half ago, but the third went around the corner onto Willard. I’ll lead, but I wanted someone to watch my six—you saw the artillery they had last time.” Without warning, Elsa felt a breeze sweep around their bodies, lifting them into the air and shooting them down the street. (She’d had a mild phobia of heights growing up, but having air support her like something solid and carrying her at altitudes high enough for a deadly fall had eradicated that right out of her system.)

“Regular entry?” Elsa asked, as they hovered several stories above the store.

“Yep. Let’s go,” he said, and then the ground was rushing toward them like the world’s most terrifying rollercoaster, the wind kicking in to decelerate them mere feet above the sidewalk. The man beside her didn’t waste a second before he burst through the door, and Elsa heard the clattering sound of guns being blown out of their owners’ hands and onto the floor. She fired four large blocks of ice at the van to prevent the tires from moving, took another moment to scan the perimeter, and slipped in silently after him.

Her companion had two men in ski masks plastered against the doors of the drinks aisle, his eyes trained on the back door as they struggled against the wind keeping them in place. The only other person in the store was a pimply teenage cashier who had backed into the farthest corner, looking terrified. Elsa sent him her most reassuring smile and crouched at the end of the aisle, watching the side windows the whole time. From their positions, only one of them would be visible from whichever location the third assailant came from, whether it was one of the doors or the enormous side window. That is, assuming he chose to fire on them, and not run away at the sight of them. She hoped he hadn’t—she hated chasing people.

Scarcely a moment later, a round of gunshots rang out from outside the store. Luckily, Elsa was more than ready, and she managed to erect a thick wall in front of the other Spirit almost immediately. The glass windows shattered explosively, but he remained unharmed as bullet after bullet lodged itself in the ice. From the angle of the shots, it was clear the last man was hiding just beyond the windows, out of reach of her ice.

“Switch with me!” Elsa shouted, and her ally yelled back an agreement. He released the wind pinning the two men in place just as Elsa formed restraints around their wrists and ankles, redirecting his power to the windows. As the third man was pulled into view, Elsa encased his enormous rifle in ice (seriously, she swore the guns got bigger by the day) and he, too, was blown against the wall next to his compatriots.

“Thanks, Silver,” the other Spirit said, panting slightly. “If you bind the last one up, I've got it from here.” 

Elsa did as he asked, and went to keep watch. On her way out of the door, she paused at the counter where the cashier was still frozen with terror, eyeing her fearfully. She softened her voice as best she could. “You'll be alright. Call the police.” And with that, she made her way back to their rendezvous point—the tallest building in a two-block radius, where she could monitor the arrival of the police. 

Perhaps it was the aftermath of the adrenaline rush, but she never managed to get the zipline right on the first try after an operation. Even when she did succeed, the whole maneuver was still a little slower and a little less polished than she would’ve liked. Still, compared to when she had been trying to get through the sewer tunnels in the first several months, this was much quicker (not to mention cleaner). And as perfectionistic as she was, even Elsa would admit that her abilities had come very far from what they were all those months ago.

_She peered around the corner, sweat freezing on her palms as she considered the scene going on in the dark alleyway. Two figures, both masculine in appearance, and both brandishing knives. One appeared to already be hurt, dragging his foot at the two circled each other. It would be easy to intervene—a sheet of ice directly underneath them, see then hopefully she could just look threatening and that would be enough, because her ice-handcuffs tended to be a bit too tight—but she forced herself to wait. Just a little longer, in case they would come._

_How does one communicate with the Spirits? When she had fantasized about joining, about helping to fix her city and her world, it was easy to just become one of them. But Anna had convinced her to make those fantasies a reality, they hadn’t an inkling of what to do next. She couldn't exactly send them an email, after all. In the end, the only way to talk to a Spirit was to find one, and the only way to find a Spirit was to go around stopping crime as well, and hope to get lucky._

_So that's what she had been doing for the past four nights—hoping as hard as she could, with absolutely no success. For the first two, she hadn't even managed to find a crime to stop. That was a whole challenge in itself, and she wondered how they did it. She wondered a lot of things about them, really, not least of which was where they got their suits, because hers consisted of some torn up black T-shirts that made breathing kind of uncomfortable._

_The man with the injured foot stumbled backward, and his adversary took the advantage and lunged toward him._ Now or never, _she thought, stepping out from around the corner to stamp her foot, sending a film of ice radiating outward. But at the same time, a figure dropped lightly to the ground between the two men, and all three slipped, landing heavily on the ice. Elsa ventured forward warily, heart pounding as she recognized the thick black bodysuit that the third person was wearing. But the newcomer was the first to recover, springing upright with a snake-like move she’d only seen in films, and with a flick of their wrists the two men were paralyzed in the middle of clambering to their feet._

_This was Red, then; Elsa had read about electro-immobilization. As he spun and started towards her, she held up her hands in a position of surrender and said, as politely as she could, “Hello.”_

_Red didn't answer, but flicked his wrists again, and as a tingling feeling materialized from the ground up to her ankles Elsa realized that her feet had been anchored in place. A bolt of fear laced through her, and her magic burst out involuntarily, a field of icy stalagmites erupting between them. Red jumped away, skidding on the ice, and tensed into a fighting position._ No, _she thought, trying to dismiss the magic, but as her panic increased the spikes continued to multiply and grow until they were taller than she was._

_“Wait!” she cried desperately. “I don't want to hurt you.” She strained her body in an attempt to locate him through the thicket, and barely bit back a scream as a hand landed on her shoulder. Another spike emerged involuntarily, and she flinched, but it passed like a mirage through the hand’s owner. The black-clad figure moved unharmed to stand in front of her, regarding her impassively._ She's shorter than me, _Elsa thought blankly, absurdly._

_“Blue,” she breathed. The woman gave no acknowledgement either, but turned and walked through the field as if it wasn’t even there. A few agonizing moments later, she returned, and Red vaulted neatly and impossibly over the barbs to stand beside her. Elsa raised her hands into the air in a position of surrender, but he flicked his wrist again, and the tingling spread all the way up to her shoulders._

_“She tried to kill me,” he said to the woman._

_“I didn't!” Elsa protested. “I can't control this!”_

_He seemed to frown, although it was difficult to tell with so much of his face obscured. Before she had time to react, he moved forward, removing her makeshift mask. “You are not one of us,” he said tightly, and tossed the fabric behind him._

_“You controlled yourself well enough with that burglar last night,” he commented suddenly. It was the first time she'd spoken, and Elsa thought her voice was just as the journalist had described it: shimmery. A sudden image of an ocean horizon came to mind._

_She fought back the barrage of questions that rose to her lips. “I want to control it better,” she said instead. She concentrated hard and forced the faucet inside her to turn the other way, and to her relief all of the ice vanished._

_“A sensible goal,” Red muttered, evidently still slightly miffed about her unintentional murder attempt._

_“I want to join you. Please.”_

_“And why would we want you to join us?” Blue asked mildly, as if they were discussing a book club._

_Elsa blinked. She'd expected questions about who she was and what exactly she could do—but apparently they already knew that. “I, uh...I don’t know,” she fumbled. “I just want to help, and I can, I know it. And, well, couldn't you always use more people on your team?” When she finished awkwardly, the two Spirits shared a look. Then they waited, seeming to listen intently, although Elsa couldn't hear a thing._

_Without warning, Red flicked his wrist once more. At first she felt nothing, but then there was a buzz in the back of her brain, and immediately after there was darkness._

_..._

_She woke to find herself sitting on a single chair in a small, glass-walled room, still paralyzed from the shoulders down. As far as she could see, the outside of her room was just another wall, bland and made of rough concrete. Her head was starting to hurt, and she was terribly thirsty. She thought of creating a snowfall above her mouth, and wondered with some consternation whether her magic required the use of her hands. She didn’t know; there had never been a reason to try, after all._

_“Elsa Winters. Twenty-five years old, born on the winter solstice.” The voice seemed to come from everywhere at first, and Elsa craned her neck to try and find its origin. Then a man stepped into her view._

_He was rather attractive, she supposed, lithe and pale-skinned and sporting a riot of curly brown hair. He didn't stop to face her, but continued moving into and out of sight, circling the perimeter of her room with a grace that belied his considerable height. His crossed arms hid the diamond on his bodysuit, but his identity was apparent; there were only two male Spirits, and Red had been much tanner._

_“Ironic, isn't it, for a woman with ice powers?” he continued from somewhere behind her. “But I'm not exactly one to talk.” He paused abruptly in front of her, and folded his limbs gracefully to sit cross-legged on the bare floor. “You probably know me as Gold. My name is Gale, and I control wind.”_

_When he paused, Elsa tried to speak, but her words came out as a harsh rasp. Frustrated, she stared at the ceiling and imagined a series of flurries, but nothing came alive within her to make them appear._ I need my hands _, she thought, but her limbs remained stubbornly useless no matter how much she strained to move them._

_“What was that?” Gale inquired, a curious glint in his green eyes. Elsa imagined that if she asked then he might get her a glass of water, but she had a feeling that she was being tested, and she’d never failed a test in her life. So she closed her eyes and envisioned that damned uncooperative faucet slowly coming loose inside her, as if unscrewing on its own. It took nearly a minute, but at last she was rewarded with cold pinpricks of snow on her cheeks. She concentrated the flurries into a single stream and let them melt in her mouth, thinking smugly that it tasted like victory._

_“Sorry,” she said casually when she was done. She ought to be afraid, she reflected, paralyzed and at the mercy of a stranger. But despite the unpredictable turn of events, she knew she was safe, and all she felt was a desire to prove herself. “Please continue.”_

_Gale laughed lightly, a sound not unlike a distant jingling of bells. “Interesting trick,” he commented, stretching out his legs. “But there's a lot of interesting things about you, Elsa Winters.” He whirled one finger in a circle, and suddenly he was floating effortlessly in the air. Elsa’s jaw dropped at the ease and grace of the action. As the Spirit continued speaking, he drifted and spun aimlessly, his tone still as airy as if he were taking a casual stroll rather than defying gravity._

_“We’ve done our research, too,” Gale answered her unspoken question, smiling enigmatically. “We see someone staking out the locations of our last reported sightings, shooting ice from her fingertips, and you think we’re just going to sit tight and wonder about you for three days?”_

_“I suppose not,” Elsa admitted. She heard a noise behind her, and saw Gale’s eyes flick toward its source._

_“Down to business, then,” he said, without missing a beat. “You're an animator, and a rather good one from what I've seen. I had time to watch clips from some of the projects you worked on. But you can work fairly flexible hours from home, yes?”_

_“Yes.”_

_You're also an orphan, as of...five years ago?” Elsa nodded, throat stuck after hearing that loaded word. Gale frowned slightly in sympathy. “It's terrible, what happened to them. We've been concentrating on gang violence for a while now, but it's very difficult to catch anyone in the higher ranks. They sit in the shadows while sending their thugs into danger, and replace them like hydra heads whenever we start to make real progress. Are they the source of your motivation?” He froze, fixing her with a serious stare, but the effect was ruined by the fact that he was upside-down._

_“One of many,” Elsa said firmly. Gale didn’t comment, but his expression told her that it was the right answer._

_“Anyway, you've still got a younger sister, and she was a senior in high school when all that happened. And either you liked being employed so much that you held down two jobs for the past four years, or you were funding her education. Demonstrates a killer work ethic—which is more than Red can say.” There was another rustle behind her, and Gale laughed again._

_“You were clever enough to get us to talk to you, but not sensible enough to tell anyone exactly where you were going, judging by your wandering path across the city tonight. Who knows about your powers, and who knows of your intent to join us?”_

_“Only my sister Anna and her fiancé Kristoff, for both,” Elsa replied. This was starting to feel almost like a job interview. She didn’t normally interview well. Stiff, Anna had called her, but there was no way to loosen up when she was paralyzed._

_“You're a rather private person, then. Loyal, hardworking, resilient, clever. And powerful,” Gale said matter-of-factly, ignoring her blush. “Very powerful. But what about your control?” He dismissed the wind suddenly, and executed a neat flip to stand in front of her once again._

_“Lacking,” Elsa admitted, wincing at the fresh memory of her involuntary thorn field._

_“Combat skills?”_

_“You mean hand-to-hand?” Elsa asked._

_“Yes. It’s okay,” Gale said, at her rueful head shake. “But you’ll have to learn both, and we don’t want you out in the field until you’ve got a handle on those and a great deal more.”_

_“But you want me in the field eventually?” Elsa pressed, hope blooming in her chest._

_“Do we?” Gale asked, raising an eyebrow. She was momentarily confused, until she realized that he was looking at whoever was at her back. Try as she might, she couldn’t hear any noise at all, each second burning in the silence as it slipped by._

_“We do,” Gale confirmed at last, looking back to her, and Elsa’s smile was so wide that it hurt her cheeks. Gale smiled back for an instant, but quickly sobered. “Keep in mind that this isn't a light commitment,” he warned. “What we do is technically illegal. This is the biggest secret you will ever have to keep. It will mean a huge sacrifice of time, and may cost you more than you anticipate. Your life is on the line, not just whether you live it, but how. Be sure that you’re ready.” Although the words were spoken in the same light tone, Elsa thought about them for a moment, testing them against the weight of her confidence._

_“I’m ready,” she said, and abruptly the tingling sensation in her body stopped. At Gale’s encouraging nod, she stood hesitantly, and turned around at last, already knowing who she would see. One by one, the three introduced themselves._

_“Samantha.” A woman who was even taller than Gale, with a deep voice, cropped hair, and a forest-green diamond on her chest._

_“Bruni.” Blonde and stocky, and a face that looked much kinder without a mask on. He met her gaze with the slightest apology in his eyes._

_“Nokk.” That same shimmery voice, which somehow fit her almond eyes and the ponytail of sleek black hair._

_“Well, come out here!” Samantha called, and Elsa realized with a start that there was a door right in front of her, made of the same glass as the rest of the chamber. As she walked out, she saw that the outer room was more like a vast concrete hall, with some sort of machinery on the opposite side, but she didn’t have a chance to take any of it in before she was engulfed in a bone-crushing hug by the same woman. “Welcome,” Samantha said, her voice reverberating in Elsa’s ear. “I’m sorry about how messy this all was. We’ve never recruited anyone before._

_“It's alright,” Elsa squeaked, her lungs burning as the breath was squeezed out of them. The realization was finally starting to hit her, and although she wasn't even much of a hugger, she could feel the joy bubbling inside her, and tentatively squeezed back. At last Samantha released her, and Elsa stepped back, looking to Bruni._

_“You’ve got to choose a color,” he said warmly, all traces of previous animosity gone._

_“I feel like she should be Blue now, with her ice magic,” Gale said slyly as he joined them, and Nokk whirled on him with a horrified expression._

_“That’s alright,” Elsa cut in hurriedly, although she was fairly sure that Gale was teasing. “I'll pick a different one.”_

_“Silver, perhaps.” Bruni said, and Elsa raised an eyebrow in consideration._

_“It would look great on the suit,” Samantha noted._

_“I like silver. But how do I get a suit?” she asked, remembering one of her many questions, and Samantha stifled a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle. Elsa frowned, and was about to inquire further, but Gale touched her arm briefly to stop her._

_“We’ll get to that,” he promised. “We’ll get to everything. But for now, welcome to the Spirits, Silver.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @Dicketbbqpit: some answers to your many question ;)


	5. plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which exactly one of them gets what she wants

_ Maren woke slowly, consciousness seeping in like the tide of a calm sea, and opened her eyes. _

_ She was lying on her side, head tucked against a pale shoulder and arm slung across a thin waist. The body next to hers was cool to the touch—which was slightly worrying, Maren thought as she pulled the blanket a little tighter around the two of them, but it was oddly comforting at the same time. She chanced a look upwards, and her breath caught in her throat. _

_ Elsa was fast asleep, her grip loose on Maren’s hip. Her hair was like a golden explosion across the dark purple of the pillows, and the elegant line of her neck was on perfect display, inches from Maren’s lips. But what really caught her attention was the peaceful expression on Elsa’s face, her mouth upturned in the ghost of a smile. It made her look much younger, and Maren realized with surprise that since Kristoff and Anna were the same age, Elsa was only two years her elder.  _

_ In sleep, that mysterious gravity of Elsa’s—the thing that had pulled Maren in faster than a riptide—had vanished. Make no mistake, the woman in Maren’s arms was still intimidatingly beautiful, but she was vulnerable too. Maren wondered if she would ever see such an open expression on Elsa’s face when she was awake—if maybe with enough time it might be directed at her. Despite the fact that they'd met mere hours ago, her gut was telling her to find out. Her hand drifted absently to Elsa’s face, tracing her thumb lightly over Elsa’s eyebrow. _

_ That was a mistake. _

_ Maren was a good boxer partly because of her fast reflexes, and she liked to think that she reacted quickly in most situations. But perhaps it was the novel location, or her captivating bedmate, or (more likely) the very late night that was her undoing—because before Maren knew what was happening, she was flat on her back with the weight of Elsa’s hips on hers, her arms pinned underneath her body. One of her hands was raised above her head, as if she were about to sprout claws. She’d believe it, from the way Elsa’s blue eyes were practically ablaze.  _ So much for vulnerable, _ Maren thought. _

_ “Elsa-” she mouthed, but the words were forced out soundlessly as Elsa’s forearm shifted to bore down on her throat. Her lungs seized on a breath of air that didn't come, and for one terrifying moment, Maren wondered if this was it. If she was actually going to die the morning after the best - _

_ But it was over as suddenly as it started. Elsa’s fierce expression vanished from her face as her eyes widened first in recognition, then in remorse. She jerked away from Maren’s neck like she'd been burned. “Oh God…Maren…” _

_ “Elsa,” Maren tried, but was overcome by a fit of coughing. Elsa sprang from bed immediately, motioning her to stay put, and was back with a glass of water within seconds. She handed it to Maren gingerly and immediately backed away, pressing herself against the wall. Maren pushed herself up and took a sip, watching Elsa bite her lip hard enough to break the skin. “Hey...” she rasped, setting the glass down. _

_ “I'm sorry,” Elsa blurted, thumping her head against the wall in frustration. “I can't believe I-” _

_ “It's okay,” Maren said. _

_ “-attacked you, I've never-” _

_ “It's okay.” _

_ “-and I'm so sorry, Maren, I-” _

_ “Elsa!” Maren said loudly, the exasperation in her voice gaining the blonde’s attention. “It's okay. You snapped out of it in like two seconds. Startled me more than anything else.” Elsa still looked unconvinced, so Maren shrugged off most of the blankets and padded over to her, snagging the topmost quilt to wrap haphazardly around herself. “Look,” she said, taking one of Elsa’s clenched fists in her own and moving them to the side of her neck. “Not a scratch.” _

_ Elsa’s fingers unfurled and traced lightly over her jaw—she had lovely hands, Maren thought—as she inspected Maren’s neck closely. “You can check over the rest of me too, if you want,” Maren joked, and was gratified to see a fleeting smile cross the other woman's face.  _

_ “I really am sorry,” Elsa said again, helplessly, and Maren moved instinctively to quiet her before she could apologize unnecessarily yet again. Although if she was entirely honest with herself, the whole quieting thing was more of an excuse to refamiliarize herself with the lovely softness of Elsa’s lips, and the way that Elsa smoothly took command of the kiss with a hand threading through her hair made Maren tingle all over. _

_ But as appealing as a round two might be—especially looking at the woman in front of her now, with a wrinkled tank top and blue pajama shorts and even bluer eyes—groceries did not do themselves, and if Ryder got back from the gym to a fridge without smoothie ingredients, “hangry” wouldn't even begin to cut it. So she pulled away, and with a cockiness that she hoped was masking her unseemly eagerness, whispered, “I know a way you can make it up to me.” _

_ Elsa merely arched a single pale eyebrow, but her expression remained impressively impassive. Maren liked to think that she knew how to play it cool—some girls loved a challenge—but Elsa had perfected the art so completely that it was making her feel like a desperate puppy in comparison. And yet she had broken through last night, and she could do it again. “Come out with me next week,” Maren pushed, pressing a kiss right below her ear, where she had already left a mark. She felt more than heard the hitch in Elsa’s breathing, and tucked away her satisfied smile. “I get out early on Tuesday.” _

_ “And what precisely would I be agreeing to do if I said yes?” _

_ “You'd be agreeing to be surprised.” _

_ “You just haven't thought of a concrete plan yet,” Elsa accused, but though her tone was bland, Maren caught the twinkle in her eye.  _

_ “Well, you can't prove it, so. Sucks,” Maren retorted childishly, and Elsa laughed brightly, a flash of surprise in her expression—as if she had startled herself with the sound. For a moment again, Maren could see the loving sister, the carefree skater, the girl who slept peacefully beside her. _

_ Then she sobered, and just like that, the softness of the morning gave way. “I don't know if it's a good idea, Maren,” she said carefully. _

_ “Why not?” Maren asked, tilting her head curiously. Elsa leaned back against the wall, fixing her gaze silently on the ceiling. _

_ “I'm a little...scattered, right now,” she admitted, just as Maren was about to give up and say that it was none of her business, anyway. “My life has changed a lot in the past few years, and I've never given any thought to this, this sort of thing. I don't know if I'm looking for anything serious, or even when I will be.”  _

_ So this was a blanket policy, then. Maren had felt a little resistance from Elsa, but didn't know whether it was personal or—god forbid—racial. Knowing that she had managed to be an exception to a rule sparked a tiny flame of pride in her chest—a flame that she was not about to douse and abandon. _

_ “I understand,” Maren offered. “I’m not exactly one to charge into commitment, either. But I'll be real with you.” She was suddenly anxious, and resisted the urge to turn and pace. _

_ “I like you quite a bit, Elsa,” she said levelly, and watched Elsa’s face smooth out into a blank canvas. “I think you like me too. And I think it would be a waste to stop something good before it starts. We can hang out and go on dates and have sex, and it doesn't have to mean anything more than us liking each other.” Elsa blushed slightly at her blatant phrasing, but didn't interrupt her. _

_ “I'll promise you now, I won't demand anything that you're not willing to give.” She locked eyes with Elsa, willing her to see the sincerity in her words. Elsa stared back, inscrutable, and though seconds ticked by in silence, Maren refused to look away. _

_ “Tuesday, you said?” _

_ Forget jumping—Maren could have backflipped for joy. She settled for a chaste peck against Elsa’s lips. “It's a date.” _

...

There were a few reasons that Honeymaren’s future promised a very successful career in law. She believed that the essence of the judicial system was good, and that necessary changes could be wrought from inside the system, so she put her heart into her work. Although she wasn't a genius, and had certain blind spots when it came to applying her intellect—Elsa and her imperfectly hidden secret being a prime example—her mind wasn't half bad either. But what would lead Maren the farthest in her career was neither her heart nor her brain, but her gut.

On a day when the sun was not so much veiled as buried behind thunderclouds, Maren was scheduled to attend her first meeting with Yelena’s prospective client. The night before had brought about her ill-fated attempt to pose the question of moving in, followed by her girlfriend’s disappearance for considerably longer than the promised hour, although Maren had felt too awkward to bring it up the next morning. Try as she might to understand, she couldn’t help feeling slightly bitter about Elsa’s answer. She told herself that it wasn’t a question of love, but independence. Unfortunately, those concepts were a bit too abstract for her emotions in the face of such a concrete rejection. 

The only doubtful upside to the events of the previous night was that Maren did not spend her morning wondering fruitlessly about the mystery of the Spirit lawsuit, when in any other circumstance she would have been vibrating with impatience and excitement. Instead, she spent it thinking about how terribly long her day was going to be, and desperately wishing she wasn’t in the office at all—the first time she had hoped for such a thing in seventy-three days (when she had forgotten about an impending snowstorm and worn her favorite leather boots). 

In an uncharacteristic bout of procrastination, Maren flipped open her phone and found a text from Elsa. Her girlfriend had left a few sketches as well as her spare key in Maren’s apartment two days prior, a result of her hurried departure on her way to extinguish a moderately large fire in a residential building fifteen blocks away. Maren replied that she would be in meetings for the entire afternoon, and so Elsa asked to come to Northuldra after her next meeting, sending a rare heart emoticon after Maren confirmed.

There was a short list of things that Honeymaren was supremely untalented at, and in second place (right below calculus) was her skill at holding a grudge. Maren managed to put together a draft for another case of Mattias’, but all she could focus on was the string of texts ending in that one solitary heart. Finally, during her lunch break, the last vestiges of Maren’s anger crumbled, surrendering to her general good nature and (ever so slightly misplaced) faith in her girlfriend, and she took out her phone once again.

“Maren, what’s up?” Elsa asked, picking up after the third ring. Her voice held only the slightest traces of sleep, but Maren noticed immediately.

“Nothing much—were you sleeping?” What with her work mostly being from home, and her trouble sleeping at night, Elsa tended to nap at odd times. Maren worried about how healthy it was to begin with, and immediately felt guilty for interrupting what was likely a sorely-needed nap, especially considering her late night the day before.

“I was,” Elsa admitted, her words slightly muffled. “But it's okay. Talk to me.”

“Are you sure?” Maren said, still troubled.

“Honey.” She could practically  _ hear _ the eye roll.

“Just a long day ahead, I guess. It's like even the weather isn't in the mood for today,” Maren sighed. “I'm supposed to start on a new project today, and it seems interesting, but I'm nervous to work with Yelena.”

“Why?”

“I mean, she basically founded Northuldra. And she's pretty...exacting is one word for it.”

“Exacting,” Elsa hummed sleepily. “Sounds like code for hardass,” and Maren was startled into laughter.

“Pretty much,” she grinned, feeling something loosen in her chest. An errant glance at the clock wiped her smile away. “I've got to go in a minute. Thanks for picking up, Els. I really just wanted to hear your voice.”

“You're going to crush this project, and everything else you've got planned today,” Elsa said. “ _ Partly _ because you're a great lawyer…” she trailed off suggestively.

“And what's the other part?” Maren asked, taking the bait. Elsa’s temperament could vary as much as the weather, but her playful mood was perhaps Maren’s favorite of all. Probably, Maren thought, because it was reserved only for a select few. 

“The other part is that I've got a rather interesting outfit I’m dying to show off— _ but _ it's for the eyes of hotshot associates only. Hopefully if you’ve got any brainpower left after all of those meetings you can find a suitable candidate to bring home tonight.” Even through the tinny phone line, the promise in Elsa's voice was unmistakable. “Well, I’ll be off then. See you soon, Honey,” she finished lightly, sounding for all the world as if she hadn't just caused a spike in Maren’s blood pressure.

“See you, love,” Maren said, knowing how dazed she sounded. The word  _ whipped _ came to her mind, and she brushed it off, even though no one would deny (least of all herself) that it was a very apt descriptor indeed.

Maren went into Northuldra’s nicest conference room vaguely turned on, rather tired, and with a tiny piece of lettuce between her back molars. Ninety-three minutes later, she came out of Northuldra’s nicest conference room overwhelmed, excited, even more tired, and with a determined, lettuce-free grin. She spared a thought for Elsa and went to grab her keys, but the details of the case kept her so preoccupied that she didn't even notice that she had company in the elevator until he spoke up.

“Lobby too?”

Maren blushed and said, “Yes, thanks,” wondering at how she could have missed her own client in an area of thirty square feet.

“Ending the day early?” he asked politely.

“No, my girlfriend just came by to pick up the keys,” Maren answered. She was very honest by nature, and only after the words left her mouth did she see his slight frown and second-guess this casual disclosure of her sexuality. In truth, the client wasn't overfond of his two gay brothers, but he had the sense to attribute his dislike to their personalities alone. Maren had no way of knowing this, though, and hurriedly changed the topic.

“I expect I'll have a few late nights coming up, actually,” she continued with a nervous smile. “But it's exciting to have the chance to do something unprecedented like this.” The elevator dinged, and her client gallantly gestured her through the doors.

“I believe you've already done something unprecedented like this,” he said, following behind. “The G&K article a couple years back? Yelena mentioned it,” he elaborated, at Maren’s look of confusion. “It was a brilliant piece. I have to say, I love the idea of writing causing social change like that, changing people’s one-dimensional perspective on the Spirits. You’re essentially responsible for the movement for a registry!” 

Maren’s insides churned with guilt at the reminder, but she couldn't afford to outright disagree. Her feet went automatically towards the exit as her exhausted brain tried to find a suitable but honest response. Her client saved her from the trouble of replying, though.

“Wow, it's really coming down!” he remarked, peering out at the thunderstorm. “It was great to meet you, Maren. Oh, and I think your girlfriend might be the one over there by the lounge.” Maren glanced over her shoulder, and saw that he was right, Elsa’s cobalt stare searing into her skin like always.

“Oh yes, that's her. I'll see you next week, Mr. Westergaard,” she said somewhat absently, as he walked through the door with another affable smile. Maren turned back to her girlfriend, who was leaning awkwardly against a black marble pillar, back ramrod straight.

Elsa had heard everything, of course.

After several hours spent thinking of little else, she had made the enormous decision to move in with Maren, and by extension, the even more enormous decision to reveal her identity. She'd had a chance to talk with Gale the previous night, who in his usual manner had managed to charm away most of her apprehension. He was the only other member to become a Spirit before entering into a serious relationship, and his revelation to his girlfriend had gone about as smoothly as could be. 

(Although, Elsa had thought to herself in a rash of anxiety,  _ his _ magic was both more subtle and handled with far more finesse than her own. She had never seen his control slip even once—meanwhile,  _ she  _ still left a layer of frost in her wake sometimes.)

Nevertheless, she had spent most of her night brainstorming a plan to break the news, and it was a rather good one, since Elsa excelled at planning and over-planning alike. She was going to surprise Maren with an elaborate dinner when she returned from work, and then demonstrate her powers on a cup of coffee (Maren loved it iced). She had even begun to over-plan and was preparing a speech in her mind, knowing perfectly well that she wouldn't be able to keep her composure around Maren and was doomed to forget every word of it.

But while Elsa hadn't quite managed to process the overheard conversation by the time Maren reached her, she understood enough to know that her plans would have to change. The words  _ responsible for the registry _ echoed in her mind and, unbidden, conjured up the memory of her first solo operation (although of course the other four had been watching—the Spirits never left anything up to chance). It was a mugging, plain and simple and cleanly handled, but when she'd handed back the victim’s purse with triumph swelling in her like a balloon, the old lady had yanked it away and spat at her.  _ “Freak,”  _ she muttered, hobbling away as Elsa stood rooted to the spot. Over one year later, she still never stuck around for words of gratitude after a mission, in case the words weren't of gratitude at all. Elsa remembered feeling more powerless than she had in years, and wondered how Maren could have wanted to bring about such a thing.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Maren grinned, fishing in her pocket for her keys. For Maren’s part, she was still consumed with thoughts about her new project. On one hand, she didn’t particularly support what her client was trying to do, especially if her gut feeling was correct—and, as usual, it was—about the broader plans that he’d hinted at. On the other hand, she didn’t think anyone or anything should be beyond the reach of the justice system. And at the core of the matter was the immutable fact that she could debate ethics with herself until she was blue in the face, but she was a first-year associate and simply had no choice in what projects either she or the firm chose to handle. 

If Maren hadn’t been wrapped up in her own dilemma, or even if she had been a little less tired, she would have noticed the struggle that was playing out on Elsa’s face, as her girlfriend debated whether to ask her about what she’d overheard. Coming to a decision, Elsa’s lips parted, but Maren chose that exact moment to kiss her, slipping the keys into her hand simultaneously.

“I’ve got to go, but I’ll see you tonight?” Maren asked, tucking a strand of Elsa’s hair behind her ear flirtatiously. Elsa nodded dumbly, and thought about speaking up again, but Maren had already walked away.

Looking at the pair’s interactions thus far, one might conclude that Maren and Elsa were not a very good couple by any means. One might even choose to believe that the impending disaster looming over their relationship like the thunderclouds outside that day wasn't really that disastrous, all things considered. Communication is, after all, exactly as essential to a relationship as every marriage counselor would lead you to believe, and these two hadn't been doing a very good job of it.

But there was a reason that Elsa had been in a relationship with Maren for over a year—no, not (just) the sex, get your mind out of the gutter. Rather, she had a very keen instinct for people, honed by months of interaction with Arendellian criminals and citizens alike, and her instincts said that Maren was worth the enormous trouble it took to spread herself so ridiculously thin. And she was right; they were well-matched and properly balanced in a way that many relationships were not. Elsa hid the truth about her powers and double life, but although it was a huge secret, it was the only lie that either of them had ever told the other. 

In fact, if Martha Westergaard hadn’t been so desperate to try for a girl  _ just one more time _ , their conversation that night would have gone something like this:

_ “Do you want any coffee, Honey?” _

_ “No, thank you love. Dinner has been amazing already. You didn't have to do all this.” _

_ “Are you sure?”  _

_ “Yes, it's alright, Els. Just come sit down with me.” _

_ "Damn it.” _

_ "What?” _

_ “Nothing! Just...hold on. I've already made a cup anyway.” _

_ “Oh. Uh, thank you.”  _

_ “And I know I didn't have to do this. I did it as part of an apology. In advance. Except it’s also long overdue.” _

_ "Wait, what? I don't understand.” _

_ "I should have told you a long time ago, honestly. I was just...scared, really, of letting you into my life. And you already are, I know that, but moving in makes it real. But I’ve had enough time to realize how stupid it was to think like that. I want us to be real, and I want you to know. Before we move in together _ — _ if you still want to after this.” _

_ “Elsa…?” _

_ “Don’t freak out, okay?” _

_ “Why would-hoLY SH-” _

Maren would have gone on to utter several more words so colorful that transcribing them here would have changed the rating of this story—that is, if she actually had the chance to show off her sailor’s mouth to the reader. But she doesn't. She doesn't pull Elsa into a hug almost immediately, seeing the fear of judgement on her face. She doesn't bombard Elsa with so many questions that Elsa wonders in a moment of horror whether she's actually dating her sister. She doesn't have a moment of hurt at being kept in the dark, and forgive her girlfriend as quickly as her terribly kind heart could. 

It would have been a lovely alternative to what happened instead. But for Hans Erik Westergaard...well, his mother was only the first in a long line of people whose hopes he was destined to ruin. 

And Elsa was next.

Unaware of her impending failure, Elsa did stick to her original plan, and made an elaborate dinner that night. She wanted to see the smile on Maren’s face, and she figured that they were still going to have an important conversation anyway, only it would be Elsa who was finding out something about her partner. Right now it seemed that, if Maren wasn’t quite directly responsible for Elsa’s ongoing attempted political persecution, she was only a few inferences away. But after the immediate panic and confusion of the afternoon, Elsa decided in a rare bout of optimism and faith—a testament to her love for Maren—not to assume the worst, but to just simply  _ ask. _

But Maren returned to the apartment very late, even by the standards of a first-year associate. When she finally burst through the door, she caught Elsa with a searing kiss, not even sparing a glance at the table, and it was clear that conversation was not on her mind. In turn, the thought of conversation took a backseat in Elsa's mind, first losing precedence to removing nearly every last stitch of clothing, then to Maren’s appreciation of the very nice lingerie Anna had gifted her, then to pinning Maren against a cabinet of dubious structural integrity, and once more to reheating the now-cold meal she'd prepared. By the time she’d refocused on her plan, Maren was only focused on finishing her remaining work as soon as possible, her existing exhaustion combining with post-coital tiredness. So when Elsa finally, tentatively asked the question that had been on her mind for the last seven hours, she was due for a crushing disappointment.

“So I heard you talking with that man at Northuldra earlier,” she began, in what she thought was a casual tone but was actually rather strained.

(In case you hadn't noticed, Elsa was  _ not _ a good actress. Her secret had only remained undiscovered through a combination of Maren’s trusting nature, a quirky enough personality to explain away some oddities, effective bruise concealment, and sheer dumb luck. 

Mostly the sheer dumb luck.)

In the same tone, Elsa continued, “Does it have anything to do with-”

“I can’t tell you,” Maren cut her off. “Sorry, Els, but if I had a dollar for every time Yelena said ‘highly confidential’ I wouldn’t have to work another day in my life.” She smiled tiredly. Elsa returned it weakly.

“Anything you can tell me, even about how you’re feeling about it?” she tried.

“I can tell you that I’ve got an insane amount of work to do,” Maren sighed. “Actually, I’ve got some research stuff to do tonight, and I think I should head back to my place. Can’t have you distracting me,” she teased. At this non-answer, Elsa felt the ice rising up inside her, freezing her veins with doubt, and—

“Wouldn’t I distract you if we lived together?” Elsa pointed out, before she could stop herself. Maren’s smile vanished.

“If you did, I’d consider it an easy price to pay.”

And neither of them knew what to say after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah...that was not four days, so no more update promises  
> I might keep going with the flashback->present format, what do you guys think?  
> cheers


End file.
